


Consolation Goal

by therescuingtype



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, MLS, Toronto FC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 07:36:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18774175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therescuingtype/pseuds/therescuingtype
Summary: Alex Bono's had a shaky few games, and now he's worried about losing his spot in the starting XI. Luckily, Jay's always known how to help.Look I may be on a solo voyage with this ship but I have a lot of feelings about what's happening with my team at the moment and this is how I process them.





	Consolation Goal

The thing about Florida is that they overcompensate with the air conditioning. The heat is so overpowering, the humidity so oppressive that entering any building requires immediate relief. But before long, you forget the heat from outside and the relief just becomes a chill in the air. That’s where Jay Chapman’s at now, back in the hotel room he’s sharing, as usual, with Alex Bono, after the game, after the celebrations. Still though, Jay emerges from the bathroom after his shower, towel wrapped low around his waist, water droplets still glistening on his chest. It’s a deliberate move; they’re way past pretending the rooming arrangement on the road is a coincidence, that their fooling around is situational or an accident or a one-time thing. But it doesn’t work tonight. The chill in the room isn’t coming from the air conditioner, but from Alex, sitting on the far bed, facing the window. Shoulders slumped, head down.

“Bones,” Jay says. His hands come to rest on his hips, his head cocked to one side. “What’s with you. You’ve been dark all night.”

Alex doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even look at him. He’s looking down into his lap, and when he does speak it takes a second for Jay to realize he’s looking at his phone.

“‘Bono doesn’t keep a clean sheet in Endgame,’” He reads from his phone. “‘Bono would’ve let that in. Would’ve dived the other way.’”

Jay sighs and moves around the first bed -- ostensibly, and if anyone else asks, his own, although he’s unlikely to sleep in it tonight -- to sit next to Alex. As one hand slides through to link his arm around the keeper’s, the other palms the phone in his hand and tosses it behind them on the bed.

“We’ve talked about the comments,” Jay says. His thumb strokes Alex’s upper arm as his chin comes to rest on his shoulder. 

It’s like Alex didn’t hear. He shrugs Jay off and stands up. “Quentin was  _ really _ good today, wasn’t he?”

Jay is quiet for just a beat too long before he answers, “he made two great saves, yeah. I’ve seen you beat that. Do you even remember CCL?”

Alex laughs derisively, taking a step toward the window and gazing out into the Orlando night. “I’d prefer not to.”

“Because of how it ended last year? PKs, after you held ‘em to one goal? C’mon.”

“Tell them that,” Alex says, gesturing in the general direction of where his phone landed in the mess of bedsheets.

“Bones, listen. I grew up in Toronto sports culture, okay? They have a memory like fucking goldfish. They will turn on you the second anything goes wrong and then act like they supported you all along when you’re doing well. They smell blood in the water and they pounce. Twitter’s only ever made ‘em louder.”

“What if I don’t ‘do well’ again. Or don’t get the chance?” Alex asks. He finally looks over at Jay, who rises to his feet and crosses the small patch of carpet between them.

“You’re not gonna lose number one because Q had one good game, Bones.” He slides his arms around Alex’s waist from behind and nestles his chin onto his shoulder again.

“I did it to Clint,” Alex says, twisting in Jay’s arms to face him. “Now Q’s gonna do it to me.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic,” Jay says with a smile. He runs his hands up Alex’s arms, to his shoulders, then up until he’s cupping his face in his hands. 

Alex slides his arms around Jay’s waist and brings his forehead to rest on the midfielder’s, closing his eyes. “The worst part is I can’t even hate the guy. He’s too fucking nice. And too fucking good.”

Jay presses his lips to Alex’s softly, just enough to silence him. “You just need one really good game,” he says when he breaks away. “Remember how I said Toronto sports fans are like goldfish? Remind ‘em what you can do one more time, and you’ll be gold. You’ll get that shot. If it’s not in Atlanta it’ll be back at home. Don’t stress about it.”

“Yeah,” Alex says half-heartedly. “Easy for you to say.  _ You _ had a hell of a game today.”

Jay pulls back, twists away from Alex, but can’t quite keep the smile from playing at his lips. “Are you mad about my goal?”

“Not mad, exactly,” Alex says. “It’s just a little salt in the wound. It was nice though.”

“‘It was nice’ he says,” Jay mocks. He steps toward Alex again, nudging him back toward the bed. “Unbelievable.”

“Oh are we done with my thing now, we gotta praise Jay?” Alex says. There’s no malice in it though, and he’s even almost smiling.

“Who said I was done?” Jay asks. He presses his hips against Alex’s, grinds lightly. “I got what you need. A little encouragement wouldn’t hurt though.”

With the lingering water from Jay’s shower dampening his shirt and just the thin towel and Alex’s sweatpants separating them, neither one can stop his growing erection. Alex runs his fingers up Jay’s side, feeling him tremble slightly under his touch. He continues on up to his shoulder, where he pushes down gently. Jay acquiesces, and as he sinks to his knees he hooks a finger into each side of Alex’s sweatpants and draws them down with him. 

“It was a solid goal,” Alex breathes as Jay’s fingers trace along his hip, moving inward, toward the base of his cock. Then, as Jay’s fingers curl around the base of the shaft and stroke gently up its length, he adds with a sharp intake of breath, “And that first touch? Perfect.”

Jay looks up and catches Alex’s eyes looking down at him. Holding his gaze, Jay leans closer, parting his lips slightly, letting the head of Alex’s dick slide between them, pressing his tongue along the underside. Alex’s fingers knot into Jay’s hair suddenly and he pulls his teammate closer, pushing himself deeper into his mouth. Jay relents and takes Alex deeper into his mouth, nearly to the back of his throat, before he pulls back. There’s a small whimper from Alex.

“That all you got?” Jay asks.

“C’mon man,” Alex moans. “You know the finish was solid. What more do you want from me.”

“Good enough,”Jay smiles, and then his lips are back around Alex’s cock, moving back and forth, faster and faster in time with Alex’s escalated breathing. He leans forward, and Alex pushes his hips forward to meet him, and this time Jay lets him, taking Alex as deep into his mouth as he can, until he feels him at the back of his throat, until he feels like he might choke. He pulls back then, lets his tongue glide along the shaft, then presses and flicks it across the head. 

Alex’s knees go weak and he drops to the bed, leaning back on his elbows, just watching as Jay repositions himself between the keeper’s knees and bobs up and down, up and down, the damp heat of his mouth bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Jay,” he murmurs, shifting his weight onto his left elbow while running the fingers of his right hand through Jay’s hair. There’s a tightness tugging in his stomach and he knows he’s close. Jay, who knows his body better than anyone by now, knows it too by the way Alex’s hips push ever so slightly up, as if begging deeper entrance into his body. He leans forward, pressing Alex’s hips back down and holding him in place while he works, sucking harder, tracing his tongue along what he knows is the most sensitive part of Alex’s cock, just at the bottom of the head, while his fingers curl around the base and stroke lightly.

All of a sudden Alex can’t hold back anymore and his fist clenches in Jay’s hair, holding him firmly in place. Jay can feel his legs shuddering an instant before he feels the first shot of Alex’s cum hit his tongue. He holds still, lets it pool on his tongue until it stops, and he doesn’t swallow until he feels Alex’s fingers loosen in his hair and start running through it. He looks up then and sees his friend watching him expectantly, so he swallows in one big gulp.

Jay rises then and leans over Alex, who lays back on the bed, his muscled chest heaving as his breath returns slowly. His hands move to Jay’s hips as he positions himself and presses down, letting Alex feel his own erection through the towel he’s still wearing. He leans down and kisses the spent keeper. Alex moans into his mouth, his taste lingering on Jay’s tongue, and his arms wrap tight around Jay’s back, holding him still.

“Now to you feel better?” Jay says when at last they break apart.

“You do make a compelling argument,” Alex grins. Jay laughs and nuzzles his neck.

Jay works his arms underneath Alex and they lay there silently, their breathing matching up. Finally, Jay says, “I’m telling you, it’s gonna be fine. You’ll get it back. Everyone on the team knows what you can do. You just gotta remember it.”

Alex turns his head, pressing his cheek against Jay’s forehead, and sighs. “If I don’t, and I get traded--”

“Not gonna happen,” Jay cuts him off. He squeezes Alex tighter to him and adds, “Besides, they can’t trade you if I don’t move. From right here. Let ‘em try.”

Alex laughs, a genuine laugh, and it’s exactly what Jay hoped for. It was a joke, after all, but deep down, he thinks -- let them try. He may not be as sure as he wants Alex to think he is about the future, about what might happen on the field, or with the team, but he’s sure that no one will ever take Alex Bono away from him. Let them try.


End file.
